


The Drabbles of Thedas

by AurelliaCresswell



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 08:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14745144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AurelliaCresswell/pseuds/AurelliaCresswell
Summary: Each chapter will be a drabble from a particular area map from Dragon Age: Inquisition. Some will be shippy, some may not. Ratings will go up as necessary with potential warnings at the beginning of chapters affected. These are in no specific order, but do keep in mind that I may end up shifting some things around if I find the flow to be better.





	The Drabbles of Thedas

  
Watching her climb the ruins of the once great civilizations is nearly sacrilege. He first notices that it bothers him in the Exalted Plains, where the great stone remnants pierce the landscape. Once soaring structures have given way to the residences of Orlesians who currently occupy the region with their overly opulent, squaty dwellings. Cassandra mentions the burning houses with a tone of regret; 'How sad to see people pushed from their homes, their property destroyed.'

Yes, he thinks to himself, not without a touch of scorn. How awful to be forced from one's home, with nothing but the whispers of memories to remind of the passing time.

She nearly slips on her steep ascent, and he cannot help but inwardly huff at the sight. She is of the People. If anyone belongs here, it is she, with her lithe strength and proud, but fractured culture. And yet, he cannot keep himself from thinking of her as little more than a thin, pointed-eared human. She and the rest of her people are lost children; little better than the humans -shemlen, she'd called them- that they so ridicule.

That still doesn't change the fact that her people should have inherited these lands. The groupings of hostile humans they've come across fight on grounds already soaked by the blood of thousands, land haunted by spirits unrested because of the injustices of what had occurred here in the distant past. He sees it as clearly as if he'd been there, as if he had lived it himself. The very earth itself remembers.

She shows proper respect when passing through spaces she deems sacred, the deference at the halla statues in mossy groves, slight though it is, amusing him. She could not possibly know of the beauty this place once held, and how everything was sacred here, at one time or another. It doesn't escape him that she pays little reverence to the wolf monuments, sparing them barely a glance, if she notices them at all.

He watches her reach the peak of her climb, balancing precariously as she dances on tiny feet to reach the shard so painfully placed just out of reach. It takes a few grasps, but she manages, her fingers snatching the satchel and a crow of delight leaving her at the small victory.

She is a child, stumbling in the face of something she cannot possibly comprehend. An unlucky child, he thinks, catching a glimpse of the bright green slice against her palm. A mortal couldn't go on indefinitely with the power that this one so defiantly wielded. She will die from this, there is no question.

Strangely, it is that last thought that ends the internal debate that had been wresting him from both his waking and sleeping thoughts. He would go through with his initial plans, no matter how fond he's grown of her and this ruffian group, if only to erase her unpleasant future from ever having to come to fruition.


End file.
